


Lord Voldemort Vs Defence Homework

by fascinationex



Series: harry potter works by fascinationex [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Gen, One Shot, Teaching, flashfic, some people aren't really cut out to be educators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:28:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25255429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fascinationex/pseuds/fascinationex
Summary: Lord Voldemort once thought he wanted to be a teacher.
Relationships: Quirinus Quirrell & Voldemort
Series: harry potter works by fascinationex [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1114089
Comments: 20
Kudos: 187





	Lord Voldemort Vs Defence Homework

The office associated with the Defence position at Hogwarts, Lord Voldemort read once, a long time ago now, has not changed in nine centuries.

At the time, a child named Tom had taken issue with the assertion: each teacher had surely changed the inside, and the castle moved parts of its structure around on whims of its own, so how could anyone prove this to be true? Even the Chamber of Secrets moves--or, at least, the paths _to_ and _from_ it do.  


“Unmoving”, in the context of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had a definition so variable as to be nearly meaningless--or so he thought.  


Of course, Voldemort changed his mind when he cursed the position.  


What is important is that these stones, in this very room, are wherever the Defence teacher is. The castle has certain spaces for certain things. There has always been a provision for teaching students to defend themselves. The headmaster--such as he is--can change teachers and classrooms and personal quarters around as much as he likes, but it is the _castle_ that quietly switches out the stones and mortar and the panes of glass until the Defence teacher occupies the Defence offices.

They could host Defence classes off campus, of course--that would sort it. But Voldemort knows they will not. Hogwarts is the castle. It’s not a traveling attraction. The school governors won’t even change its model to allow day students--a fact he has been at pains to point out to his lycanthrope followers, historically.  


The magic of the castle seems only more _staggering_ the older he grows and the better-educated he is. The four founders were true geniuses of magic, those four outliers among the rabble with both vision and the sheer power to execute it, to whom nothing seems to have been impossible--except, perhaps, to escape death. 

But now their school seems drab and mundane in the day to day, and it has clearly been brought low. It’s hard to be impressed by the school Albus Dumbledore is operating. His ideology has made it less than it once was, even under the dubious administration of Dippet.  


Strange to think that Lord Voldemort once had such respect for Hogwarts that he aspired to nothing greater than employment here.

In the first week back he’s too weak to notice much, but now that Quirrell is taking his medicine--a cynical thought that causes an echo of dark amusement in Voldemort’s mind, for the unicorn blood is a terrible medicine. It is the pretty colour of quicksilver, and just as _toxic_ \--he is well enough to take control. The students are back in classes this week, and he can get a taste of the life he once wished for.  


“Master, you are not strong enough,” Quirrell protests in the quiet of his office. It smells of His chest moves as he breathes. Voldemort feels his hands, like an echo of a body he doesn’t have, clutching at the turban.  


He is strong enough.  


Oh, Quirrell _wishes_ he wasn’t strong enough.

Giving up one’s own body is never pleasant. Lord Voldemort would know.

“I am strong enough,” Voldemort corrects him in a sibilant whisper. When all is done, Quirrell’s opinion does not matter: this is no longer his body, and he is not in control. 

He wants to _see_. He wants to _know._

He wants to grade students’ papers. _  
_

Lord Voldemort takes the reins of their shared body. He is not gentle. Quirrell’s pathetic attempt to avoid his power annoys him, in the distant place where he still suspects he feels things.  


He looks around for a moment, at the old familiar stones and the dust motes dancing in the light of the late summer afternoon where it slants through Hogwarts’ windows. It is something, every time, to have access to the clarity of all these senses again.  


He looks down at the semi-legible handwriting on the parchment. Tom Riddle, too, once struggled with the use of quills that had to be trimmed to shape, so he does not immediately judge the writer for his writing, as some of his own early teachers once did (and regretted, as all who underestimate Lord Voldemort are destined to do). _  
_

_Seamus Finnegan_ , a name that is vaguely familiar..

The parchment before him begins with an uncited definition of the undead copied from _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection._ This is acceptable, but it isn’t copied correctly--the ink is smudged, errors are inserted at random, and it includes the banshee as an example for no reason Voldemort can adequately infer.

Hmm.  


_Vincent Crabbe_ , the next one, seems likely to be better--he recognises the family name, if nothing else.  


The writing is better, at least, he notes.  


_They don’t have undeads in Urope,_ the text asserts. Voldemort generously assumes he must mean zombies specifically, but of course he is grievously incorrect in matters of ghosts, inferi, vampires and the like. _They don’t have dead people in Urope, so there’s no undeads._

 _Hmm_.  


Voldemort seems to be developing a small headache--behind his left eye.  


He exhales slowly.  


“Very well, Quirrell...” he murmurs, gracefully, as he does everything, "Perhaps you are right. Lord Voldemort _is_ too weak for the rigours of controlling this body, yet...”  


**Author's Note:**

> This fic was actually prompted by AO3 user [Misfit Mccoward](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misfit_McCoward/pseuds/Misfit_McCoward) as a, like, a b-side short fic to my much, much bigger fic, Resurrect the Living. However it doesn't require any RtL knowledge to understand so I'm putting it up here as well as on [my blog](https://cardio-vore.tumblr.com/post/623331584447283200/resurrect-the-living-b-side-lord-voldemort-and) with the other RtL rambling XD
> 
> If you liked something about it, please feel free to let me know in the comments; otherwise I hope you have a good Tuesday afternoon. :)


End file.
